Cold
by kickingbutt
Summary: In their final year of junior high, Sakuno is just about to give up, but Ryoma gives her the encouragement she needs. [RyoSaku]


**Disclaimer:** I don't own the Prince of Tennis :'(

**AN**:Hi y'all, kickingbutt here. This little piece of fanfiction just demanded me to write it in one day, so please don't be too harsh. Anyway, just to let you know, I don't really like to use Japanese in my writing, not even Japanese honorifics. It's labeled as an English-language fic, so it will be written in the English language. I like to think of it like the English dub.

* * *

It was cold.

Sakuno Ryuzaki sighed as she watched the wintry raindrops fall, mixed in with the hailstones. It had snowed earlier, but it was too wet for any of the flakes to stick. Rather than the sparkling white wonderland the weatherman had promised, she'd received something akin to sludge.

From behind the classroom window, the dark gray clouds looked unforgiving, and they showed no signs of letting up before the school day was out. Well, tennis practice was certainly cancelled today. Her grandmother was at a conference out of town, so taking a car to her house was out of the question. She'd already forced a reluctant Tomoka, who had to walk a longer distance, to take her emergency umbrella. She sighed again with closed eyes as she resigned herself to running home as fast as she could.

Her eyelids fired open as she fell victim to a sharp flick to the forehead.

Regaining her composure, she attempted to glare at the perpetrator sitting next to her. Instead, she looked like a pouting child.

"Hey weirdo, class isn't over yet, pay attention," said the boy dispassionately, like he was one to talk. Ryoma Echizen hardly ever paid attention in class - not that he needed to. They were in English class, and, having been born and raised in America, he was fluent. Of course, even if it were any other subject, he'd probably be able to wing it and get good marks. He only listened in science, his favorite subject. Sakuno frowned at the fact that she knew such details. It was really...pathetic.

"Ryoma..."

She had first seen him on the train two years ago. With his smart mouth, he'd unknowingly saved her from getting hit in the face by a high school bully. He had stood up for her. The only other person to ever have done that was Tomoka. In her innocent twelve-year-old eyes, he automatically became a hero.

When they disembarked, it was revealed that he hadn't noticed her at all sitting across from him.

"Sorry," she muttered, turning to face the board. She peeked at him out of the corner of her eye. He rested his cheek on his rough palm, looking bored. His unruly dark hair prevented her from seeing his eyes.

He always looked bored when he wasn't playing tennis, especially when he was talking to her.

Maybe it was because when he first spoke to her, she'd given him the wrong directions to a tennis tournament. Her heart had been beating too loudly, and she couldn't think straight enough to give him the right ones. She had made him late, and he was disqualified because of it. He couldn't play because of her. He probably would have won if he had. Maybe that was why he always seemed so disinterested while speaking to her. He was doing his best to hide his disdain. Then again, he looked at all girls disinterestedly.

When she had discovered him lying on the grass, hair glinting emerald in the sunlight, he barely looked up at her. He probably bought her a cherry Ponta because he felt sad for someone who could make so many mistakes in one day.

She thought he had forgiven her when he started going to her school. He behaved politely enough.

Actually, he'd just forgotten about her completely.

Eventually, he recalled her family name due to their constantly being thrown together and the fact that her grandmother was his tennis coach. She still wasn't sure if he remembered her given name though, or if he knew it at all.

Most of the time, he was forced with her against his will.

His father was the one to demand he give her tennis lessons - every dreary Sunday morning. He reluctantly complied even though her utter lack of potential was a waste of his time and expertise, and he hated getting up early. Because of his choice to teach her, she worked to make his time with her more bearable. She worked and worked for hours to perfect her basic form.

Once she was rewarded when he held up an okay sign and told her, "For you, not bad."

Then he had disappeared.

He had gone back to America for the US Open, and she cheered for him as she watched his matches on television a world away. When he had returned to Japan, he participated in the Japanese U-17 Invitational Camp. He came back to Seigaku a month into second year and their tennis lessons resumed. He had started giving her extra lessons on Saturday afternoons because he told her she lost all her skill since he'd been gone.

He criticized her often, but she still liked him. Everyone knew it. His teammates usually teased him for it. Near Valentine's Day, she had found the courage to confess her feelings. Determinedly making her way to the tennis courts, she'd overheard the upperclassmen mocking him over her.

"Little Sakuno is so cute! You keep her all to your self, but you don't even make a move," one of them had whined. She couldn't see his face.

"I don't like her. You can have her," he'd replied definitively. The voice was definitely Ryoma's, and that was that. She'd still given him the chocolate she made out of courtesy, and because she hated to see food go to waste, but she shredded the note that went along with it.

She had kept finding ways to cancel their tennis lessons after that. She considered quitting tennis altogether, but thought better of it when remembering how much her racket had cost and the amount of hours she spent practicing. For some reason, her stutter disappeared during that time.

He had given her White Day chocolate a month later because his father made him, and their lessons resumed again. Now, in the middle of their third year, the lessons continued - every dreary Sunday morning and every melancholy Saturday afternoon.

She was shaken from her reverie as the teacher dismissed class. Sakuno glanced again at the looming darkness outside before gathering her things into her book bag. She indolently trudged to her shoe locker, hoping the papers in her bag wouldn't get soaked. She really couldn't allow her grade to drop any more.

For a while, she just leaned against the lockers, praying for the rain to stop though she knew it was no use. As she waited, the foyer slowly emptied of other students. Sighing for the umpteenth time that day, she begrudgingly pulled on her petite brown flats and pale blue coat.

Ready to brave the wet, she boldly started walking whilst gritting her teeth. As she neared the building exit, a voice called out to her.

"Ryuzaki, wait up!" Sakuno spun around in surprise. She thought she had been alone.

There was Ryoma, smirking as he walked slowly toward her, umbrella in hand. "Where's your umbrella? It's hailing, you know," he said.

"Oh," she said looking up at him, noticing how much taller he had gotten over the last two years, "I don't have one." When they had first met, he had been the same height as her. Now, he towered a full head above her.

"Then let's share," he said.

"It's okay, I'll be alright," she waved him off.

"I'll walk you home. It's on the way," he said, clearly not taking no for an answer.

"Are you sure?"

"It's fine," he replied firmly. Sakuno fell into step with him as they ambled out the building. It was pouring hard. There were only a few seconds between the moment they stepped outside and the moment Ryoma opened the umbrella above their heads, and already her hair was sodden with rainwater. She looked around at the puddles littering the ground. She really should have worn boots. At least now under Ryoma's umbrella, her homework would be safe.

"So who put you up to this?" she asked idly as they passed through the school gates.

"No one," he said, keeping his eyes trained straight ahead of him. His breath lingered hotly in the air before dissipating.

"So what were you doing staying so late? Club activities are cancelled. I thought I was the only one left," she said.

"I had to talk to the teacher. What were _you_ doing staying so late?" he countered.

"Nothing," she said wistfully. It was true. She really had been doing absolutely nothing but standing against her locker. It was incredibly pathetic.

"Hey Ryuzaki, you seem really different this year. You seemed really sad today especially," he said. He almost sounded concerned. She looked up at him, sadness clouding her eyes. He was really trying his best to be nice, she thought. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." She swallowed with a little difficulty.

"Since your grandma's not home, why don't you come to my house?"

"Um, no thanks. I'm okay."

"Then I'll go to yours," he said casually.

"Hey, you can't just invite yourself over to other people's houses," she huffed. The arrogant boy really knew nothing of proper etiquette or common courtesy.

"You still have a long ways to go."

"You can't come over," she said, her voice full of ice. She couldn't let him come over. She couldn't. There was silence for a moment as her words permeated the frigid air around them.

"What's up with you this year?" he asked finally.

Sakuno stopped in her tracks, and Ryoma stopped a few paces ahead of her with the umbrella. She caught his sharp golden eyes with her cinnamon brown ones for a moment. Her vision began to blur from all the water. He quickly walked back to her side to return the protection of the umbrella. Her mind went back to his indirect rejection of her - the cool indifference of his tone. It didn't hurt anymore. She was too numb.

"Nothing," she said, walking again. Ryoma looked at her skeptically, but continued walking.

"We're friends, aren't we?" he asked her. She supposed that was a fair label. They spent an inordinate amount of time together to just be strangers although she felt that way sometimes. She nodded, not looking at him.

"I was just thinking about that tennis ball you gave me in seventh grade," he began, "the one with the drawing on it. I was feeling nostalgic the other night looking at it. You could be an artist someday, Sakuno." Sakuno blinked. He was getting at something, and she wasn't sure what.

"Maybe...I wanted to when I was little, but I probably wouldn't be good at it," she replied uncertainly.

"Don't just give up like that. It's not like you," he scolded playfully. So that was it. He was trying to encourage her. He'd noticed the apathetic shell she'd become.

"Why are you-?"

She stopped when she saw him pulling his cap tightly over his eyes. He only did that when he was embarrassed.

And suddenly it hit her.

He liked her.

Ryoma Echizen, the prince of tennis, kind of liked her, plain and simple Sakuno Ryuzaki. He was sort of fond of her - just a little bit. Sakuno was sure of it.

He cared for her - more than the other girls in school.

She wasn't sure if she could hold a candle to his teammates or his cat, but she knew that he cared. He cared enough to buy her a Ponta when she was short on change. He cared enough to stand up for her when she couldn't do it herself. He cared enough to help her with tennis when her grandmother or his father hadn't demanded it. Perhaps the feelings she had attempted to convey to him through her cheering and constant presence at his matches had reached him.

He actually felt a tinge of affection for her.

It wasn't as strong as her feelings toward him, but it was there, and it was growing.

And for now, that was enough.

"You're right. I shouldn't just give up," she said brightly, smiling the widest she had in a while. It was a stark contrast to the weather. Unconsciously, she walked a little closer to him.

Finally they reached her house. He lingered next to her as she fumbled for her keys. Just before turning them in the slot, she turned to him.

Standing in front of the door, he told her, "Close your eyes, Sakuno."

It was cold, but Sakuno Ryuzaki felt very warm.


End file.
